In The Wayside
by M.Kena
Summary: “How can you not be afraid of fire?” Sam asked. “After everything…?” Dean looked at him and smirked, the light from the flames reflecting in his eyes. “Some would ask how I’m not afraid of you. A collection of random drabbles.
1. Since You Tasted Rain

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Only wish I did. The only form of payment I get are reviews. (And dang it because I never even get those.)

**Warnings:** Depressing. Morbid. Disturbing. Angsty. This will be the place where my darkside comes out. I'll probably have a lot of Evil!Sam stories because for some reason, that whole storyline and his dark turn in Born Under A Bad Sign is just so amazing to be and I love to write it. Oh, and this is un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine. I just wanted to post right away, so hopefully I caught everything.

**A/N:** So, this is basically a digital copy of my 'scribble notebook'. This is merely a collection of drabbles that have nothing to do with each other (unless I say that they do). I just find myself constantly writing short little stories and they're filling up my numerous notebooks and I needed somewhere to put them down. Hope you at least sort of enjoy my weird ramblings.

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**Chapter One:** Since You Tasted Rain

* * *

It's been days since you've seen the sun, let it warm your skin.

It's been weeks since you've felt the wind, let it blow in your hair.

It's been years since you've tasted rain, stood outside with your head thrown back, with your mouth open wide and not a care in the world.

It's been days… hell, maybe longer than that, since you've felt anything but pain.

And when he looks up at you through his floppy brown hair – a crooked smile on his face as he tightened the ropes round your wrists – with eyes that shine golden… you know it will be much longer than that.

Salvation is a long time coming.

And who knows how long it will be before you see the sun again.


	2. Your Greatest Strength

**Disclaime**r: See first chapter

**Warnings: **Actually, none. A cuss word here and there, but this isn't disturbing like the last one. It's actually almost sweet.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Your Greatest Strength **

"I don't think we'll make it, this time."

"Don't talk like that, alright? We're going to be fine." But Sam's voice wasn't as strong as he would have liked it to be, and Dean's voice was nearly a whisper. He had the blood-loss and pain to blame. Sam only had fear.

"Sam?" Dean asked, reaching out and just brushing Sam's arm with his blood soaked fingers.

"Yeah, Dean?" Sam asked soothingly, never pausing.

"I could never kill you." He whispered, and Sam couldn't prevent the flinch. He stopped, only long enough to look at his brother, and then returned to his work. "Even if you were the most evil sonuvabitch out there… I couldn't do it." Dean let his eyes fall closed for a minute, but they shot open when Sam patted his knee. "'M too weak." He slurred.

Sam laughed harshly, one loud—too loud in the small space and it echoed around them—bark of a laugh that nearly broke him. "I think they call that love, bro. Not weakness."

Dean groaned and let his head fall to the side. "Same thing."

Sam stopped for real this time, his fingers stopped digging at the dirt and rocks in front of them and he turned bodily to face his brother. Dean was propped lazily against the wall, his shirt a mess of dirt and blood.

The tunnel had caved in hours ago, and there was no way out but to dig.

They were running out of air and Dean was running out of blood.

Sam grabbed his brother's chin and forced Dean to look at him. He shook his head. "No." He said forcefully, shaking Dean's head a little, so he'd get it, fucking get it through his head. "They're not the same thing, Dean. Not even close."

Sam let go and went back to digging, driven by the need to get Dean to safety. Driven by his love for his brother. Love gave him strength.

"Now, shut up and stop bleeding. I'm getting us out of here."

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**REVIEW! Thank you.**


	3. This Is How The World Ends

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter

**Warnings: **Eh, a bit darker. A tag to Heart. A slight look at Dean's feelings.

* * *

**Chapter Three: This is how the World Ends **

He's never felt pain on so many different levels before.

"You tried. I know you tried."

Damn it all to hell because he should have the power to fix this. That's his job after all: to make everything okay.

"Please."

And all his shields, all his masks, all his armor can't stop the flinch and the tear when the gun goes off because it's all over now.

Sammy is gone.

* * *

"Sam?"

He's hunched over the body, his hand shaking around the gun, blood splattered on his shirt. He's staring at his hand, the finger still curled around the trigger.

"Sam?" Dean says again and watches his brother drop to his knees next to her body.

Sam can't speak. He's just killed her and just realized the weight of the promise he'd forced his brother to make.

Dean walks over, and gently takes the gun from Sam's hand and tucks it into his waistband. He ignores her body for as long as he can.

"We need to go." Sam whispers gruffly and gets to his feet. Dean grabs his arms when's he's on his feet and they stare at each other for a while. Dean wants him to see that goddamn tear, because maybe then he'll know that he feels it too. Dean feels the pain too.

"Do you…"

"We need to go, now." Sam insists and runs a hand across his face. Dean nods once.

"I'll take care of it."

They both know he means the body.

* * *

Halfway out of town, silence thick as the fog of the night, Dean pulls over to the shoulder. He turns off the car, ignoring Sam's quizzical gaze, and yanks open the door, falling out onto his graveling, onto his hands and knees. He then proceeds to puke all over the ground.

"Dean?" Sam asks worriedly, leaning over.

Dean grunts in return, shifts up to his knees and wipes off his mouth with his coat sleeve. "'M alright." He grunts again and shakily pulls himself back into the car.

Nothing else is said. Dean starts the car and they drive.

Neither one knows where to go.

* * *

**Two in one day, how cool is that? Review. Please and thank you.**


	4. Pain Has An Element Of Blank

**Warning**: Language. And it's kind of depressing again. Another glimpse into Dean's mind. This takes place before Hunted, before Dean got to spill the beans on 'the secret'. He's still reeling from John's death and the weight he left his eldest to bare.

**Disclaimer**: I stole 'em. And now we're in hiding. Title and poem by Emily Dickinson.

**Chapter Four: Pain Has an Element of Blank **

**

* * *

**

_Pain has an element of blank; it cannot recollect when it began, or if there were a day when it was not. _

_It has no future but itself, its infinite realms contain its past. enlightened to perceive new periods of pain._

**

* * *

**

So, you want to talk? Isn't that what your eyes allude to, Sam?

I can't even look at you without seeing those fucking puppy-dog eyes begging me to tell you what's wrong.

If I remember correctly, I did that all ready. You didn't like what I had to say.

_"It's my fault he's gone… Dad's dead because of me… I was dead and I should'a stayed dead." _

I know it hurts, but the truth always does.

So, if I talk now, I just want you to know, that the words are going to be just the same. Time isn't going to change them.

I go to bed telling myself that tomorrow is another day, because that's what Dad used to tell me.

"Go to bed, son. I promise things will seem better in the morning."

But, Sam, they don't.

Everything still hurts when I wake up.

I go to bed missing him and wake up just the same.

And tomorrow isn't gunna be different.

* * *

I'm trying. 

I swear I'm trying.

But it's hard. Harder than anything and everything I've ever had to do before. And I know it was never Dad's intention to put all this weight on my shoulders, but he did and goddamn it, Sam… it's crushing me.

I'm tired. I'm so damn tired. 

But I'm trying.

I'm trying for you, Sammy. Because you're the one who will hurt if I give up and I promised myself I'd never hurt you. Not if I could avoid it. Believe me when I tell you that as scared as I am of being alone, I'm just as scared of leaving you that way.

I promise I'm trying, Sam.

Just be patient with me.

* * *

You know something? 

Dad never took us to baseball games when we were kids. We didn't watch the Super Bowl and I'd never even heard of Michael Jordan until I broke my collarbone that time in Tulsa and had to spend a few weeks on bed rest in a motel that only got ESPN.

But you want to know something else?

That stuff never bothered me.

It was the little things that got to me. Like the way we never fought about grades. It was always about the hunt.

One time I brought home a report card with three Ds. Dad barely even looked at it. For once, I just wanted the man to yell at me about something besides target practice or forgetting to salt the doorway.

I loved the man, but a symbol for a great parent he was not.

I've tried so hard to give you the normality you deserved. The normality I craved for the two of us.

But I came up short—oh so short—and I'm sorry, Sammy. Sorry for the both of us, because I would've loved to have been an uncle someday.

But this life is going to kill us, man. I just pray that God'll do me one favor and let me go first.

* * *

I'm not perfect. 

Not even fucking close.

Ever since that incident in Tulsa, my collarbone hurts on bad days 'cause of the bad heal, and my depth perception is slightly off, especially in the left eye.

I'm clumsy as hell outside of the hunt.

I drink too much and my eating habits are questionable.

I haven't slept through the night since I was four and I'm damn selfish when it comes to keeping my family together.

I love you and Dad more than what's good for me.

And the things I'm willing to do to protect the two of you… it scares me sometimes.

* * *

I miss him, Sam. And I'm not alright. 

I'm so fucking lost because his death left so many loose ends.

I don't know how to fix it this time (and isn't that my job? Isn't that supposed to be what I do?) I don't even know what's broken.

But somehow, someway, I'm going to get us through this. I promise I'll find a way.

Because that _is_ what I do. That's my job.

So don't worry, alright? Don't.

It'll be okay.

How do I know?

Well, that's a silly question, Sammy. Because I'm your big brother and I know everything.

* * *

**The End. (I'll love you forever if you review.) **

**(c) M.Kena **

**April, 2007**


	5. Because I Could Not Stop For Death

**Disclaimer:** See previous chapters. Emily Dickison is my hero, so I borrow her poem.

**A/N: **I had this up earlier, but no one reviewed... and I really really liked this chapter, so I took it down, revamped it and now repost it very warily. I'd really like to know what y'all think. M'kay?

**A/N2:** Again, I'd like to thank everyone for their kind comments over the last few weeks. In case you wanted to know, no one ever brought guns to my school and my friend is dealing with her loss very well. She graduated last week and did it for her little brother. I couldn't be prouder. I just wanted to let you all know how much your nice words meant to me.

I HAD TO EDIT THIS. A FEW LINES WERE DELETED IN THE EDITING PROCESS. SORRY.

**

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**Chapter Five: Because I Could Not Stop For Death**

"Because I could not stop for Death—he kindly stopped for me…" _Emily Dickinson_

* * *

_It's funny because you've always compared_ Sam _to Dad… and yet, as it turns out,_ you _are the one repeating your father's mistakes._

* * *

The silence in the car is thick. The dried blood on his forehead is starting to itch, so Dean reaches up to scratch it, but there's a big bump and it hurts to touch so he leaves it alone. 

"When we get to Bobby's I'll fix that for you." Sam whispers. His voice is higher than normal, and he's practically twitching with all the left-over adrenaline. He'd wanted to start hunting now, now, now… but then he'd noticed the sway in his older brother's step and decided a little R&R wouldn't be a bad thing.

"I'm fine." Dean's voice is low and raspy. Sam knows he's got to be exhausted. Dean probably hasn't slept or eaten properly since… well… in a while.

"Sure you are." Sam muses gently as they pull into Bobby's driveway. The older hunter and Ellen are all ready there, waiting. There's smoke coming out of the chimney and Sam hopes Bobby is cooking something.

Sam gets out of the car first and watches Dean stagger to the house. Three steps from the doorway he stops moving and goes limp. Sam is too far away to catch him and he lands hard on the cold ground.

* * *

_A year. Twelve months. 365 days. _

_You don't know how many hours-minutes-seconds that comes down to, but you know it's just not enough. _

_A year isn't long enough to tell Sam you're sorry for making that deal. _

_Especially when you've never been good at lying to him. _

* * *

"He's alright, just exhausted and dehydrated." Ellen explains. "Bobby had some Gatorade in his fridge and I made sure he downed the whole thing. A little sleep and some of Bobby's stew and he'll be back to normal." 

"Thanks, Ellen." Sam whispers, taking a swig from his bear.

"Sam." Ellen says gently, sitting next to the young hunter. Bobby purposely drops a spoon on the floor, because he knows what Ellen is about to do and its not the woman's place… but she's never been one for manners anyway.

"Don't be too hard on him."

Sam looks at her, his eyes shining. "You've got a lot of nerve even talking about this." His voice is low.

"Put yourself in his position." She offers. "What would you have done?"

Sam stands up, slams his beer on the table and walks away. He throws a, "I'd have gotten more than a fucking year," over his shoulder and disappears into Dean's room.

* * *

_But you know it was worth it. _

_Sam's alive. The Demon is dead and your father—the stubborn bastard—crawled his ass outta hell. _

_You all got to see twenty two years of hell finally pay off. _

_And pulling the trigger and seeing that yellow-eyed sonuvabitch die felt good. Felt damn good. _

_Sucks about leaving Sammy, though. _

* * *

"Sorry about scaring you like that." Dean whispers when Sam comes in. "I guess I did need to rest some." 

But Sam's not here to chat, that much is clear when he grabs Dean's shirt and nearly throws him out of bed and shoves him against the wall.

"How could you do something so damn stupid, Dean?" He's pissed now. Beyond angry. He'd stayed calm back at the graveyard, but now it was all hitting him like a sledgehammer.

A year was nothing. He'd blink and it'd be over and it'd be pay up time. What if they couldn't find a way to get out the deal? What then? How could Dean do this?

"Sam…"

"You shouldn't have done it." And just like that, Sam's breaking. His head falls forward on to Dean's shoulder. "You're such an idiot…"

"I know." Dean agrees, reaching up to rub Sam's back as his baby brother nearly collapses against him. "I know. But it was my only option, Sammy. I couldn't let you die… I'm pre-programmed or something. Looking out for you is all I know how to do."

Sam laughs then, bitterly and shakes his head. "Our lives are weird, man." He whispers and takes a step back to sit down on Dean's bed.

"Yeah." Dean agrees and sits down next to him.

"But I'm going to fix this. I'll get you out of it." Sam assures him, looking at his brother.

Dean smiles genuinely and nods.

"If anyone can do it, you can."

"I will. I promise."

* * *

_You hope maybe he can forgive you someday. (Preferably sooner rather than later because you'd hate to die with him mad at you.) _

_You hope he'll forgive you when you don't let him save you. Even if it means blowing your own brains out. You won't let him renege your deal and drop dead again. _

* * *

"Dean." Sam whispers. "There's something I need to tell you, about Mom." 

Dean looks up at him, frowning, confusion all over his face.

"Before you found me, the Demon told me… showed me… something about the night Mom was killed…"

* * *

**And you swear saving him will be the last thing you ever do.**

* * *

End. 

**A/N3: **So, the final line could be Sam or Dean. Take your pick.

**A/N4:** You'll probably see more oneshots about Dean's deal from me. It's like the whole evil!Sam scenario, just gets my creative mind pumping. All this angst. I cannot wait for next season, even though the spoilers I've been seeing about new possible series regulars aren't making me happy. Seriously, I need like a spoiler patch, like a nicotine patch. I gotta stop looking at them. I gotta.

**A/N5:** And sorry about any format errors, kept deleting parts when I went to edit it. It was weird.

Anyway, love you for reading.

I'm in a weirdly good mood today. Probably because it's the last day of school! Woo.

(love) Kena


	6. Where the Sun Won't Set

**Warnings:** Dark. Curse words. Overall just a freaking weird story.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Winchesters, I own the weird poem though, because I wrote it a really long time ago.

**A/N:** I'm honestly not insane. I swear. I'm actually pretty normal. My writing is just... really weird sometimes. This came out of nowhere a really long time ago and I've written it and rewritten it dozens of times and I'm sure that as soon as I post this I will work on a another version, but it's killing me just sitting on my desktop. So I'll post it in and in a few months I'll probably post it again. Just so you know, this very much a step out of my comfort zone to post this, what with all the black holes in the non-existant storyline and all... so please be kind.

**A/N2:** Very AU, and lookit! There's some more Evil!Sam for ya.

**Chapter Six: Where the Sun Won't Set**

* * *

**Stand up straight, cowboy. **

**You've got horses to ride and women to woo. **

**Stand up straight, cowboy. **

**You've got a job to do. **

* * *

Dean never feared fire the way Sam did. 

He was terrified of heights. Had a slight aversion to small spaces and never liked the dark.

After a bad hunt in Minnesota he spent a year terrified of water.

But even after the way his childhood went up in flames, he was never afraid to burn.

* * *

**The sun never sets on tomorrow and yesterday is always at your back. **

* * *

"I don't want to be burned, Dean." Sammy—before he had rebelled against the nickname—had admitted one night, as they watched John burn a body to dispel a particularly vengeful spirit. 

A vengeful spirit that had thrown John into a wall, locked Sam in the boiler room, and pushed Dean down a flight of stairs.

"You're not going to burn, Sammy." Dean assured him, reaching out and catching the small boy's hand in his own.

"I don't wanna be cremated, either." The little boy was pouting now, fighting with his tears, hugging Dean's arm to his chest.

"Why not Sam? You don't wanna come back as a ghost, do you? Then hunters will have'ta hunt you." Dean reasoned.

Sam shook his head, a big fat tear rolling down the side of his nose. "I don't want life to end in flames." He admitted and wiped his face on his brother's sleeve.

Dean hadn't had a response to that one. So he promised he'd throw Sam's body into a vat of acid or something, or maybe a volcano, instead—because that'd probably get the job done.

Sam had burst into tears then, cried for nearly forty minutes straight.

Dean had tried to explain to his father, as he rubbed at the fresh hand mark on his face, that he was just trying to help.

* * *

**Yesterdays are over so fast, and tomorrow comes like that. **

* * *

It happened too fast for either of them to comprehend it. 

One minute, Dean was bleeding to death in his brother's arms and the Demon was standing over them.

Even through Sam's hushed whispers of, "you're okay," Dean could hear the Demon offering Sam a deal. Dean's life in exchange for Sam's allegiance to the demon and defiance of everything from this world.

This world meaning Dean.

And the next minute Dean was breathing in the life that had been denied from him, and Sam was…

Well… all Dean found were the flames.

* * *

**Today we may admit to sorrow, but tomorrow we begin to fight back. **

* * *

It was a long shot, Dean knew. But it wasn't like he really had any other choice. 

So he worked as hard as he could to piss of the yellow-eyed demon in any possible way he could.

And when that night came, he knew Sam would be there.

No matter how prepared he had told himself he was… when he walked out of the bathroom and into the hotel room to find Sam waiting for him, he was surprised. To say the least.

He heard a snort from the far corner of the room and he turned, one hand ruffling his wet hair, the other grasping the towel around his waist. "And to think, Ava almost came with me. She'd be enjoying herself."

Dean let out a startled yelp, "the hell!" and retreated back to the bathroom, nearly losing his grip on the towel. He'd been caught naked—in every sense of the word—and he didn't even have a weapon within reach.

"Sam!" He bellowed, his face pressed against the bathroom door he had open a grand total of three centimeters, four max. "Look, if we're going to have one of those final showdowns, battles of epic proportion shindigs… can I get some pants on first?"

Sam smiled, let out a small chuckle because that was just so Dean. He shifted back on the bed, where he'd been sitting with his legs crossed, so he was now on his back, propped on his elbows. "Dean." Sam nearly cooed, shaking his head at his brother's unfailing naivety. "I'm not here to fight you."

Dean opened the door an inch or two; just far enough to see the slight smile of hope spread across his brother's face. When Sam mirrored the action, Dean's grin shrank noticeably.

"I'm here to kill you."

Dean slammed the door and locked it. He turned around to get his boxers, because he knew that door wasn't going to hold Sam back for long and he wasn't going fight with no pants on. No way.

But when he turned, there was a surprise waiting for him. A Sam Winchester. "Hey, Dean." Sam greeted. .

"Sonofa…" Dean hissed and jumped back, colliding with the door.

Sam just continued to smile. "You're quite jumpy."

"Eat me." Dean growled and pushed Sam back, reaching around him to grab his boxers. He unwrapped his towel, making sure it still covered his front, held the fabric between his teeth as a makeshift curtain as he pulled on his underwear quickly.

Sam laughed and shook his head. "No." He looked his brother over, still chuckling. "You're only skin and bones now, and that's no good. Too crunchy." It was joke, but Dean wasn't laughing. "Oh come on, brother." Sam hit Dean's shoulder, and Dean barely even flinched. "That was a good one."

"You never were good at jokes." Dean deadpanned.

"You got the sense of humor, I got the brains."

"Don't forget the looks, I got those too."

Sam was more or less on him now, their chests touching, pinning Dean against the door. "You know what happens now, don't you?" Dean refused to answer him. Sam pressed his lips to his brother's ear and whispered throatily. "I kill you. And you know what else? Your death will signal your failure. There'll be no one left to save me."

"No one could save you." Dean whispered back. "Not unless you wanted to be saved, and you didn't want salvation, Sam."

"You don't have any clue as to what I want." Sam hissed, his hands drifting closer and closer to his brother's throat.

Dean laughed, low in his chest, rumbling and bitter. Sad in a way a man of his age shouldn't be able to comprehend. "That's where you're wrong, Sam." Dean whispered. "And I wish I didn't know… but I do. And if you were still you, I know what you'd want me to do." Dean leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Sam's. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispered, shaking his head.

"For what?" Sam asked softly, his brother's uncharacteristic softness peaking his curiosity.

Dean didn't answer, instead he stepped back, pressed against the locked door and took out his lighter. "It started with fire, maybe it can end the same way."

The second before Dean dropped the flame, Sam smelled the gasoline.

Something happened after that.

* * *

**Stand up straight, cowboy. **

**You've got a job to do. **

* * *

The firemen managed to pull Dean free. Considering where he'd been in relation to the heart of the flames, it was a miracle there was any Dean left to salvage. 

He'd sustained third degree burns to nearly forty percent of his body, his legs and torso mostly.

He hadn't even asked about another body. He knew very well there'd be nothing to find.

It was his third week in the burn unit when he got a visitor.

His heart skipped a beat or six when Sam walked through the door, smiling that smile and looking every bit like his Sammy.

"Sam… you're…"

"It's really me, Dean." He assured him. "I don't know how it happened but about a week ago I woke up in a hospital in fucking Nowheresville. Nurses told me I'd been in a coma for nearly a month. It took me a while to find you…"

"Do you remember…?"

"All of it." Sam interrupted. He was still standing in the doorway, afraid to get too close.

Dean smiled, blinking away tears. "Damn Sammy… its good to see you, man." He waved him over. "Come here; let me take a look at you."

"You set me on fire." Sam whispered, walking to his brother's side.

Dean laughed gently. "Yeah, I did."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that when you fight fire with fire, you'll only get burned?" Sam reached out and gently grabbed Dean's hand, squeezing softly.

"Found that out the hard way."

"What I don't understand is how… how'd you even know that'd work?"

"I did some research… and took a huge leap of faith." Dean smiled.

"You winged it, didn't you?"

"Sorta."

"You're a bastard."

"Saved your ass."

"I love you, Dean."

"Oh God. If I knew you were gunna dive right into the chick flick moments I mighta let you stay a demon a bit longer."

* * *

**Stand up straight, cowboy.**

* * *

"How can you not be afraid of fire?" Sam asked, staring at his brother as the fire roared on in front of them. "After everything…?" 

Dean looked at him and smirked, the light from the fire reflecting in his eyes.

* * *

**Ride where the sun won't set on you.**

* * *

"Some would ask how I'm not afraid of you." 

**End. **

**Now do me a big favor, since I did post twice in one day, and review for me. **

**And this website keeps deleting things, so forgive me for any format errors. **


	7. Drowning

**A/N:** Wow, its been a long time since I've posted anything. Figured I'd start the New Year off with a New Post. I've got a lot of stories in the works, but getting them to the computer seems to be a problem for me. I got the 'you look like a sin' from the 'You look like sin on a stick' line in 'Sweet Home Alabama'. Honestly, couldn't figure out where I'd heard it before, because I knew it didn't come directly from my mind. I was a little embarrased when I realized it, but whatever. The dialouge was really the only thing I had at first, but then, you know, the rest just came, as it tends to do. Hope you enjoy the read.

**Disclaimers**: I don't get paid for this, and I certainly don't own Supernatural.

**Warnings:** Hmm... angsty. May be disturbing. Some bad language. But in this collection, what else have you come to expect? Oh, and its unbeta-ed, so all errors are all mine. Sorry. :)

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Drowning

* * *

**

Sam was still working at the ropes around his wrists when the door opened again.

"Always a fighter, ain'tcha, Sammy?"

"_You're_ not allowed to call me that." Sam hissed, grimacing when the ropes bit at all ready raw, all ready bleeding skin.

"Aw, but haven't I always called you Sammy?"

"You're not him." Sam insisted, fighting the ropes with more vigor, but he knows who tied them as well as he knows he won't be getting out of them.

_Dean_ shrugged and threw his duffle on the bed. They're still in the hotel room, but Sam won't dare scream, because _Dean_ made it perfectly clear what would happen if he did.

"If you so much as look at someone wrong, I'll take this knife and cut so far up his," he stopped and chuckled, taking a deep breath before correcting himself, "I mean—_my_, arm, I'll be dead before you can call for help."

* * *

They weren't supposed to go like this. This wasn't a blaze of glory, it was a fucking whimper.

Dean had broken through; somehow, he'd done it.

There was two minute window of clarity, only two minutes, but it was just enough for Dean to untie the ropes and whisper, "Sammy, please, don't let me hurt anyone else."

_Don't let me hurt you._

"I won't." Sam promised, but he wasn't going to promise anything else, not yet.

"Whatever it takes," Dean whispered before he crashed his knees, writhing in agony and clutching his head.

"Dean!" Sam cried and caught Dean before he did a face-plant. "Dean, come on! Stay with me! Stay. With. Me."

Dean stopped thrashing, and all at once went completely lax in Sam's arms. When his eyes opened they were dark as night and Sam let go so fast, he heard Dean's head thunk on the ground.

"That won't happen again." _Dean_ promised and looked pointedly at the chair. "Sit down, Sam, before I have to do something you'll regret."

* * *

"What did you do?" Sam yelled, staring in horror at the blood stain on Dean's shirt.

Dean glanced down at his shirt, pouted as if it were a pesky grease stain he'd just noticed and shrugged, "I was bored."

Bored meant taking an innocent kid who was walking home from school.

When the police found the body they'd only disclose half the information because the murder had been too brutal to share with the small town.

* * *

"Why him? Why Dean?"

"Because I didn't want him to feel neglected. I took you last time, it's his turn. Don't be selfish, Sammy."

"You can _have_ me. Just let him go."

_Dean_ smiled and looked down briefly at his chest, rubbing at his sternum. "If only you could hear him yelling at you right now for that one."

"You can… you can hear him?" Sam asked, begging for an inch the demon was not going to give.

_Dean_ smirked. "Yeah. Sometimes. Mostly I just hear his suffering." He quirked an eyebrow. "Because he is, you know. Suffering, I mean."

A muscle in Sam's jaw jumped and the demon in Dean's body knows a soft spot was hit.

"You remember, don't you, Sam? When I took you last time, how much it hurt. Feels like drowning doesn't it? You're inches from the surface, but you just. Can't. Quite. Breathe. You're inches from coming up for air, but something is holding you down."

Sam looked at the floor and _Dean_ laughed.

"Yeah, you remember."

* * *

"Dean," Sam whispered, finger steady on the trigger, panting, the dried blood on his face and neck itching and sticky like glue as it dries. "C'mon, fight it. Please man, don't make me do this."

Eyes flashed jade and flooded black.

Perfect lips curled back to reveal teeth coated in blood as _Dean_ snarled. "Believe me," he hissed, "you'll just delaying the inevitable. My father might be dead, but you Winchesters are still on the hit-list."

"Fuck you."

"Please do." _Dean_ purred, sauntering over to Sam, staring straight down the barrel of the gun, knowing this body was better than any bullet-proof vest. "Mmm, Sammy…" black eyes roamed over Sam's blood and sweat soaked body, "you look like a sin."

Sam took a step back, remembered it was Meg—the demon—saying these things, not Dean. Never Dean.

"I swear to God I'll shoot you."

"Again?" _Dean_ looked at his arm, the one that hung limp at his side, blood dripping from his fingers. He looked back at Sam, smiling because that boy was so darned cute when he was being a moron. "Yeah, 'cause last time worked so well. You're only hurting him, you know."

Sam didn't answer, just tightened his jaw and steadied his arm.

"He's all broken inside, you know?" _Dean_ whispered, blood dribbling down his chin before he could wipe it away. "When I let him go… if I let him go… the closest hospital will be too far."

"Dean," Sam's voice was low, "you fight, do you hear me? I won't let it kill you."

_Dean_ just laughed, "he can't hear you now." The laughing stopped and _Dean's_ staring at him with expression half hatred and half pity. "He's screaming too loud."

"Damn you." Sam can't even come up with anything original now. Just spurting the same insults over and over because all he can think of is all that blood Dean is losing.

"Oh honey." _Dean_ cooed. "If I had a soul to damn, I'd be damned by now."

* * *

"I didn't… I didn't hurt ya, did I?" Dean gasped, shivering so hard its like he's having a fucking seizure and all Sam can do is hold him. Hold him and pray for Dean to hold on.

"'Course not."

"G-good." His eyes drifted shut.

"No! Hey, Dean, stay awake. Eyes open, c'mon. Look at me. Look at me. Please."

His eyes opened with way too much effort and it's all sparkling hazel and dingy red behind those lids. His face is pallid and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. He's trembling, chest heaving, trying to keep breathing despite the fact he's drowning from the inside out.

_Too much blood. Too much. _

"You stay with me, Dean. Understand?"

"M'tryin' Sammy… m'tired."

"I know, but stay awake for a little while longer. Help is coming, it's coming."

Dean just let his eyes slide closed and hummed an answer before becoming completely silent.

"Dean?"

And the silence, the complete absence of noise is so different, so startling, that Sam wants to cover his ears.

* * *

When Meg had gotten her claws into Sam, he drifted in and out of awareness. Like an old slide show with missing pictures. Those days were a puzzle, but Meg only left behind a few corner pieces.

But Dean—

—he remembers.

He has all the pieces, assembled and laid out in front of him.

And Sam knows that's why Dean hasn't talked yet, hasn't said a word, but that doesn't stop him from worrying.

"It wasn't you, Dean. Whatever that bitch made you do, it wasn't your fault."

Dean looks at him, sorrowful and busted and just smiles that broken smile.

"I know that, Sammy." His voice is low and raspy, but it's like the sweetest song Sam has ever heard. "But it doesn't make me feel any better." Dean looks at Sam a second longer before his gaze drifts beyond his brother's shoulder to the window.

He doesn't say any more.

* * *

"_He's all broken inside, you know?"

* * *

_

**A/N2:** On the off chance anyone has wondered where I've been... I've been here. I'm still a loyal reader (not so much a loyal reviewer) but I've been pretty busy. I just got my college acceptance letter (with a scholarship if I can toot my own horn) so I'm pretty much in the fatal stage of senioritis and if I don't flunk out between now and June, I might be able to put some more effort into showing my face around here.


	8. Certain

**A/N:** Um, wow... well I basically feel like a newbie all over again. I didn't realize it had been over a year since I've updated. Holy cow, really? Sadly, its because I've all but stopped writing. Even this chapter is over a year old, something I'd written and thrown away. I found it tonight and thought it was cute and might be a good way to let anyone who cares that I'm not dead. =] I'm still alive, just in college. A party school, if that clears anything up farther. =]

**Warnings/Disclaimers:** Uh, there be sexual innuendo here. Pairing is Sam/Jess and its pre-Pilot, Stanford days. I own nothing.

So, uh, read? I guess. And review? I don't deserve them after I abandoned , but I sure do appreciate them!

* * *

He was laughing. Laughing!

She crossed her arms over her busty chest and pouted. "You're not supposed to laugh. You're supposed to want to do me." She whined.

Sam shook his head, holding up his hand, attempting—and failing—to stifle his laugh. "Jess… I do… It's just…"

She 'harumph-ed' and leaned against the doorframe.

"What? It's just what?" She asked, raising her eyebrow and sucking in her cheeks in an "I'm so mad at you right now" look that had always made the crotch of his pants feel a tad bit too tight.

"Heels?" He laughed. "I've never seen you walk in heels; I doubt you could have sex wearing them. You'll tear a hole in something, probably me."

"I was trying to be sexy." She whispered, stepping out of the lacy black pumps and kicking them away.

He sat up and crawled towards the edge of the bed, where he sat: feet on the floor and arms reaching out for her. She shuffled her feet closer so he could wrap his arms around her trim waist and pull her close enough so he could kiss softly between her ample breasts.

She rested her hands atop his head and gently, sensually, ruffled his hair.

"You're very sexy." He whispered, running his lips along her soft curves. "You don't need to try."

"I just wanted it to be special, that's all." She explained. "I bought new underwear and everything."

He grinned up at her, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her panties—sexy red lacy panties with a matching push up bra. "They're coming off anyway." He explained. "And you'd like fine in grannie panties."

She smiled down at him and brought her face to his, her hands resting on his "I just shaved this morning" cheeks and she kissed him softly. As she pulled away she gently sucked on his bottom lip, savoring his taste. She made a quiet "mmh" noise that made him shudder.

She pushed him on the bed, flat on his back and straddled his waist, walking up his chest with her hands. She had this little sex kitten smile on her face and he found himself smiling with her.

She just made him so damn happy.

And not just sexually happy.

Really, genuinely "let's go skip in the daisy patch" happy.

He reached up and grabbed her chin, forced their faces together and slid his free hand down the curve of her back to the back of her thigh.

She giggled into his mouth and he smiled against her lips, remembering just then how ticklish she could be.

"Don't." She whispered and her breath was hot and humid against his chin.

"Sorry." He whispered back and kissed her. "I love you." He breathed and she pulled back. She sat on his thighs and stared at him. "What?" He asked, resting up on his elbows.

"I just… you've never said that before." She explained. "It's always 'you too' or 'ditto'." She smiled. "You've never actually told me you love me."

He shrugged, smiling a smile that took up his whole face and dimpled his cheeks. "Well I do."

She'd always known that. Ever since he'd gone with her to that dance class and actually had fun, just because they were together, she'd known that he maybe-kinda-sorta-probably loved her. But she knew he wasn't the type to say it. He'd probably never said it to his brother or father either and she'd never asked him to say it to her.

"I love you too." She whispered and then lay down next to him, cuddling close. He wrapped one arm around her and kissed her forehead. She rested her hand over his heart and just stared at his profile as he focused on the ceiling.

A minute or so passed before he turned to her. "I thought we were going to do it." She slapped his chest and he laughed heartily before rolling over on top of her.

"Sam!" She squealed as he attacked her face with kisses.

Yeah. This was love. She was certain of that.

* * *

**A/N2:** So, I thought it was cute at least. IF anyone cares, which I doubt, because it had been SO long, I recently unburied Ghost of Me, and was thinking about maybe trying to rewrite it? Anyone interested at all? I mean, I'm not saying I'm _going_ to do it, just that I'm _thinking_ about it. I might think about it more if anyone else besides me is interested. =]

Well, that's it. I hope everyone else is enjoying the new season as much as I am. Drop me a line if you ever want to talk about it. =] I'd love to chat about our boys.


	9. Scars

**A/N:** I'm trying to do better, I swear, but life is so hectic lately. College. Drama. You know, the usual. So, for anyone who might still care enough to read, I've got two short updates. Maybe someday I'll throw out a multi-chapter fiction, or finish Ghost of You, because it'd be neat to see how much my writing has changed. =]

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Really.

**Warning:** Um, spoilers for the 4th season, I guess. Not much else.

So, um, read, yeah? And tell me what you think, if you'd like.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Scars **

He hadn't really noticed, but since Dean had said something, all Sam could do when he saw his brother was remember the scars that were no longer there.

He didn't know to describe how it made him feel.

Anxious? Scared? Relieved?

It was a relief that Sam could see his brother's torso without wincing at the pockmarked scars from the rock salt, or the scar of the bullet wound on his shoulder.

But it meant Dean came back different.

And he couldn't help but wonder what else had changed.


	10. What Comes After

**A/N:** So, I'm pretty proud of myself for writing this during the first wave of evil!sam excitement around the conclusion of the second season, and now its all legit again =] Its really actually a snippit from a story I was working on about future evil!sam, but as you've probably gathered, I suck at dedicating myself to anything more than 500 words. But who knows, enough people like it, maybe maybe it will motivate me.

**Disclaimer:** Oh how I wished I owned the boys. The things I'd do to them...

**Warnings:** Not much actually... a bit of whump, oh and it's AU I suppose.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: What Comes After **

"You shouldn't have come." Sam growled and with a flick of his wrist, pinned Dean to the opposite wall.

"I shouldn't have done a lot of things." Dean replied, fighting against the invisible bonds. "How about you let me go, huh, little brother? We'll fight mano a mano, none of this demonic juice backing you up. It's just not a fair fight."

"I'm a demon, Dean. We don't do fair." Sam was in his face now, and Dean saw nothing familiar in those green eyes that once looked so much like home.

Dean smirked and turned his head to the side, a look of disgust masking his features. "Woo, you obviously don't do breath mints either."

Sam bit at the inside of his cheek, fighting the smile that was pulling at his mouth. "Still the same Dean… fighting with words. It's too bad they were never your strong point. You were always better at being the muscle, left the brains to me. You must be so lacking now that I've moved up in the world." Sam smirked. "Or down, I guess, depending on how you look at it."

Dean didn't answer him, he just stared into his little brother's eyes. "Let me go, Sam. We'll end this now."

"You know I could kill you, right?" Sam asked, holding the front of Dean's jacket, thumbing the familiar leather. "Without moving a muscle I could rip you apart."

"Of course I know what you can do, Sam. I just don't think you will." Dean explained. "You're afraid to know what comes after."

"You promised you'd kill me before it got to this." Sam whispered, and looked up from the worn jacket into his brother's eyes.

"No, Sam." Dean shook his head. "I promised I'd save you."

Sam grabbed his brother's shoulders and ripped him away from the wall and threw him across the room. Dean crashed hard against the wall, falling unmoving to the ground. With a cry of rage Sam pinned Dean to the ground, his hands wrapped around his brother's neck. "No! You promised you'd kill me!" Sam yelled. "You promised me, Dean!"

Dean smiled, his teeth a sickly red color his face was quickly trying to match. "Good thing I had my fingers crossed." He wheezed. "And you're not a monster yet, Sammy… I can still save you."

"You can't save everyone." Sam parroted the phrase they'd once exchanged what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"I'm gunna save you."

Sam let go and Dean jerked upwards, coughing as he choked on oxygen.

"It's me, or it's you, Dean. One of us is going to die tonight." Sam insisted. Dean shook his head, struggling to his feet, holding his ribs.

"It's not going to end like that." He coughed once and spit out a mouthful of blood, checking his mouth with his tongue for any missing teeth.

"You're right." Sam nodded. "It'll end with me."

* * *

**Review?**


	11. Shattered Stories

A/N: So, I've had this for a while... so long in fact that I have no memory whatsoever where I got this list of words. I tried to make each "story" a sentence, but that might not have worked out so well since I am a wordy, wordy person.

A/N2: It's been a long freakin' time since I've posted anything. My bad. No promises that this is the beginning of my return, because I'm sure I'll disappear again...

A/N3: I do appreciate all the readers and reviews though, so, so, so much. You guys make my heart smile a huge, 'Dean-with-a-slice-of-pie' smile. Truly.

A/N4: No beta, I'd feel like a jerk asking anyone to beta for me since I'm not around and I hardly review because I suck. All mistakes are on me, I welcome corrections from you guys.

Disclaimers: I own nothing. These prompts were not mine, and I'm sorry that I cannot give credit where credit is due!

Warnings: Probably language... I don't think there is any character death... that is all. None of the 'stories' are necessarily connected.

* * *

**Black and White**

John saw the world as black and white—good and evil— while Sam dwells in shades of gray and Dean—well Dean doesn't see shades or colors at all, he sees only his family and what he has to do to keep them safe.

**Will Never Be**

It's cold and raining and smells like wet pavement, but standing at her grave Sam doesn't smell that or feel the water soaking into his pants at his knees, he only smells her shampoo and remembers how she felt beside him as he stares at her headstone and what will never be.

**Hit or Miss **

He only had time to fire off one bullet before the thing would be on him, but the wound high on his leg had already gone numb and stolen the heat from his body so he knew he was screwed either way, hit or miss.

**Touch Me**

"If you touch me one more time," Dean hissed through raw, cracked and bloodied lips as tried to get away from the probing, claw-like hands—but the ropes cutting into his wrists kept him place, "I'm going to rip you apart."

**Me or Them**

They were closing in around them and Dean stood tall despite the massive blood loss but Sam still towered over him while Dean yelled, his finger tightening over the trigger, "it won't end like this, Sammy, because I promised you it wouldn't and so now you've got to choose: me, or them."

**Naughty or Nice**

Sam knew it wasn't good to lie, his Daddy had told him so, but he also knew that Santa only brought presents to good little girls and boys so when Dean took him to see Santa at the mall by the hotel and the jolly man asked if he had been naughty or nice this year, Sam lied because he really thought this might be the year Santa could bring him a Mom.

**Coming Out**

John just smiled at Sammy when Dean yelled through the door that we was definitely never coming out of the bathroom because John still remembered his first dance and how stupid he had felt in a suit and tie.

**Talk to Me**

Dean shook his head because Sam couldn't possibly ever understand, and even though he'd said "talk to me," it was one of those default Sammy-puppy-dog-eyes-bitch-face requests and he wasn't going to want to hear what Dean had to say and Dean didn't want Sam to blame himself for all the fear and pain.

**You're Mine**

Sam had run off after the other demons, but Dean stayed behind to deal with Meg, an easy smile on his face as he spoke, "and you, Bitch? You're mine."

**Baby**

"Dad is going to save us so stop being a baby," Dean snapped as Sam whimpered and buried his face into Dean's shirt when the thing outside the Impala made another lap around them, but Sam had heard the tremor in Dean's voice and he knew he was scared too.

**Sex**

The girl at the bar looked like sex on legs and his kind of trouble but all Dean could think about was how she would have screamed in hell and how easily her bones would have broken and what her blood would have tasted like.

**Asylum**

They might have put the Roosevelt Asylum in their rear view mirror, but Sam left a piece of himself back in the room where he'd tried to kill his brother.

**Enemies**

The doctors had wanted to know if Dean had any enemies that might have tried to hurt him—_three broken ribs, internal bleeding, forty stitches, severe concussion, "we won't know until he wakes up, if he wakes up"—_and Sam thought it might be easier to list the people they knew that didn't want to hurt his brother ever since Dean had taken responsibility for all of Sam's mistakes.

**Whimper**

Sam hated T.S. Eliot and refused to read The Hollow Men in school because something about the last few lines—"not with a bang but a whimper"—left a painful sickness in his stomach.

**Leather**

When he was rebuilding the car, Dean left cleaning the passenger seat for last because the blood on the leather was like having his Dad around for a little longer.

**Drive**

Dean offered to stick around, because she was sweet and funny and smart and beautiful and it was obvious she liked him and she was exactly what Sam needed right now, but Sam told him to "just drive" while he watched in the rearview mirror until she disappeared from sight.

**Breathe**

The pain was so heavy and encompassing that he felt like he could drown in it, but he knew what she would want so he got off his knees and tried to breathe through it.

**Summer**

While at school, Sam dreaded summer because it meant that everyone went home and it was just another reminder that he didn't have anyone to go home to anymore.

**Tattoo**

Jess had a tattoo on her side that was supposed to say 'serenity' in Latin and it was probably Sam's favorite thing about her body because it was on a hidden bit only he got to see and it served as a reminder of everything else he loved as well—_Dean_—even if they had spelled it wrong.

**Abused**

He got really good at hiding the bruises after CPS nearly put him and Sammy into foster care because a teacher thought he was being abused.

**Light**

Sam had always been afraid of the dark—Dean had always told him that fear came with the knowledge of what was really out there and he'd be stupid if he wasn't afraid—but Sam's worst fear came true in the middle of the day when Dean was gunned down and it was completely light outside.

**Water**

Sam was always awed by the ocean and he'd spend hours staring at it with Jessica, talking about the sheer immensity of it, but all Dean could say when they stood with their toes in the Pacific was; "that's a lot of fucking water."

**Need**

Dean didn't like to need things, needing meant relying and it all sort of felt like weakness and John Winchester didn't raise his sons to be weak.

**Sugar**

The women who cleaned the hotel room had soft hands and smelled like dryer sheets and called him 'Sugar,' and Sam cried silently for two hours in the bathroom after she didn't survive the exorcism.

**Blood**

He'd been desensitized after all those years on the job, but even John's stomach flipped when he opened the door and a rush of warm blood pooled at his feet.

* * *

That is all, for now. Review if you enjoyed =] I love to hear from you.


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